We'll Let Him Go
by WhisperingLeaves
Summary: A little insight into Damon as he and Elena share a moment and quite possibly more in Homecoming, 3x09 .
1. Change

**We'll let him go.**

A/N: A continuation of the scene in last night's episode, The Homecoming. Enjoy!

Rage. Black, suffocating rage began to consume me as I downed my third glass of...whatever the hell it was I was drinking. And she was there. Staring at me, _apologizing._ As if her verbal tirade would assuage my anger, my disappointment, my _fear._ How stupid she could be. And yet. Yet.

As I stormed to the fireplace and threw the remaining whiskey into the fireplace, I could hear myself screaming, letting the dark hatred infuse my veins, pushing her away. She didn't need to be here; why was she here? I wasn't Stefan, didn't she know that by now? I could never be, no matter what I wanted. Shit, I'm too angry for this, for her to be here. Why won't she leave? I cannot deal with her sympathetic, concerned, beautiful face.

She puts her arm upon mine and I shrug it off. "This could've all been over!" I repeat softly, desperation tinging my voice. Hating myself for showing weakness, I glare into the fire, body shaking with rage, the grip upon my glass almost enough to break it. My brother and I have a tenuous past, no one can doubt that, but the thought of him being gone forever, of that bastard Klaus living forever, was too much. I need to kill something, rip it's heart out, tear through the delicate flesh of a random naive sorority girl, _something._ The slow burn in my throat intensified at the thought, and suddenly I could smell her. Both Stefan and I know how delicious she smells, how erotic she tastes, her warm blood pulsing through that delicate body of hers. That blood that touches every part of her body mixing with my own body...my anger began to change to something else. An emotion far more dangerous: bloodlust.

"Hey Damon, hey, hey listen to me!" she implored, moving closer to me, heightening my desire as her scent washed over me and her heartbeat quickened. She should be scared, I'm a monster. A monster that cannot even beat his own brother, cannot keep her safe. I hated myself in that moment and I think I hated her as well. For doing this to me, to Stefan, for making us feel. For this humanity, this desire. If I let it, it would consume me, destroy me.

These thoughts filtered out of my mind as she placed her hands upon my face and sought my gaze. "We'll survive this. We always survive," she stated, her fingertips moving slightly against my hair, setting my sense on fire. She was wrong, though. As good as her touch felt, as much as every muscle in my body was yearning to reach out and take her lips upon my own, feel her warm, supple skin on every part of my cold, rigid body, I could not believe her. She was a fool, she needed to be told. But as her dark eyes held my own I found I could not. The words fell heavy upon my lips and would not escape and harm her. After an eternity, she moved her fingers lightly against my hair once again and added resolutely "Trust me."

For only the second time in my reasonably long life, I found I could not resist. Not this woman, not my Elena. I _did_ trust her, and a trickle of fear replaced the anger at this realization. Somehow our relationship had shifted, from cold hatred, to indifference to trust. My eyebrows furrowed at the word, hearing it resound in my head. Elena trusts me. Instead of letting the rage return, I gave into another emotion, passion.

Her breathing was becoming irregular, her heartbeat quickened even more and I realized it wasn't fear she was feeling but another emotion entirely, equal passion. And while it maybe only be because Stefan was a dick and unable to give her what she needed, my dead heart did not care. In this moment, she chose me. Maybe that was enough. For now. Maybe I'd always be second best, but the look in her eyes told me otherwise. The eyes that had tricked me before, the eyes so like and yet completely unlike Katherines.

The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. "We're never getting stefan back, you know that don't you?" I inwardly recoiled, expecting her to slap me, to collapse into my arms, to proclaim her love for my dear brother who deserved her in so many more ways than I ever could. But she did not. Her hands embraced my face more tightly, and she swayed, her eyes leaving the present and entering an unknown place for a second before returning to my icy blue gaze.

"Then we'll let him go, okay? we'll have to let him go," she stated resolutely, her voice only quavering slightly at the prospect of Stefan being gone forever. The faint sensations her skin sparked intensified at her words. Maybe I was only second best, but that could be enough. For Elena. My elena. I could do nothing but nod at the notion and she seemed relieved to win my acquiescence. Perhaps she was only relieved that I wasn't as consumed by anger. Whatever the reason, she wasn't letting go and the moment seemed to spiral into eternity, our gazes locked.

As the chains of desire began moving our bodies closer to one another my phone rang. Of course it would. The moment was broken, the chain snapped. I inwardly groaned as I participated in a short conversation with Katherine. That bitch always knew when to ruin any moment of my life. It was her art form. As I hung up I turned my eyes back to Elena, who seemed much more guarded than before. Instead of giving her space which I knew she wanted, I indulged myself.

I took two steps towards her and slowly placed my hands on her folded arms, squeezing gently, reveling in the softness of her skin and the intimacy of this moment. Half expecting her to recoil in residual Stefan love, my eyebrows rose as she loosened her arms and brought them to my waist, gripping harder than necessary. "Damon," she murmured through slightly parted lips, moving her eyes from her hold on my waist up my torso and finally reaching my eyes.

Fixated on the sensations she was creating in a very delicate area, I leaned down painfully slowly, wishing nothing more than to take her on the rug we were standing on. But this was Elena, not some random whore, or even Katherine. She deserved more. She deserved more than me. But, at least in this moment, she wasn't rejecting me. I almost felt alive, almost felt...

Her.

**A/N: Soooo...that was my first Vampire Diaries fic. I usually write for Bones but last night's episode inspired this little ficlet. It might remain as a one shot, or I could quite possible add more. It depends...what do you all think? Reviews make me smile!**


	2. Tentatively

**Tentatively**

**A/N:****Ask****and****ye****shall****receive.****;)**

Suddenly her lips were upon my own and this wasn't Katherine pretending to be her, and this wasn't a farewell kiss as I faded into darkness, this was...the start. I moved my arms around her narrow waist and brought her into the natural planes of my body, gasping softly as she wound her arms around my waist in response, trailing lines of fire every place her hands touched. Her lips moved against mine tentatively at first, but quickly grew bolder. I became lost, letting her passion press upon my senses and obliterate all else. But then the sensations stopped and I was thrust back into the darkness. Only this time, the darkness I had made.

"Damon," she murmured, eyes flying open as the realization of what we had just shared came crashing upon her slight form.

My name from her lips which had, only moments ago, drawn me into her warmth was now smothering me in despair. "Elena," I began, desperately wanting her to know what had passed between us and to selfishly gain more.

Stepping back suddenly, she bumped into the couch and lost her balance, grasping onto my arm to stabilize herself. After regaining her footing she immediately let go, as if burned by my flesh. "What did you do?" she gasped, confusion and betrayal welling up inside her chocolate eyes.

"Elena," I began again, my voice tinged with hardness. How could she blame _me_ for what had passed between us? She could've walked away, could've left me to my misery. Shit. "Don't deny this!" I barked, anger corrupting my lips as I took a step forward, my pupils dilating in an equal measure of lust and anger. I could not admit to love, not here. Not now.

Flinching slightly as I brought my face close to hers once again, I inhaled deeply, unable to cleanse the feeling of her taste from within me. I wanted more. "I can't do this," she admitted softly, meeting my gaze once more, the confusion gone and replaced by sadness and betrayal. "I need..." she added, her voice falling silent as her eyes turned to a smudge on the small square of floor-space between us.

Having no other choice, I closed off a portion of my humanity and hooked a finger under chin, returning her gaze to mine. I hoped that she would find a less threatening emotion in my eyes; that of mere friendship. Of unattached concern. I couldn't risk anything else tonight. "What do you need Elena?" I asked quietly, keeping my voice flat, burying the emotions that insistently clawed at my insides, wishing to breathe life into death.

"Time," she admitted after several long moments, moving quicker than usual away from my gaze and out of the room, headed for the door. Wrenching it open, she exited quickly, her shoulders hunched in what I assumed to be sadness. The clawing within suggested perhaps it was guilt at her desire for me; dare I say her love? But I sneered at the prospect. She couldn't feel that for me. Not while Stefan could still be saved. Her words were just that. Empty words to comfort one another until the world righted itself and Saint Stefan made his brilliant return.

Walking back to the assortment of drinks I took great pride in obtaining, I chose a century old Scotch and downed three glasses before letting my brain return to the events that had inspired my current hell. Glancing at the door, I downed another glass and flung myself onto the couch, gazing into the depths of the fire. "I have time," I stated, knowing how pathetic I sounded and hating myself a little for it. I couldn't deny my feelings for her anymore, but I _could_ turn them off. Or get completely wasted and think about it tomorrow. Sitting up quickly, I grabbed the scotch bottle and took a long drink, willing myself into oblivion. Sometimes an eternity just seemed so damn long.

TVDTVDTVDTVDTVD

I had given her a week. A week of unreturned phone calls, of nights drinking myself into oblivion, and, most disturbingly, of rising emotional turmoil. I had two choices. Either I confront her or I turn off my pesky humanity. My frown deepened at the thought. I would become no better than Stefan and the world didn't need two Salvatores who had gone off the proverbial deep end. Deciding to get up off my ass, I grabbed my coat and headed for the car only to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. "You look like shit," I stated to my reflection, suddenly happy that all those hack writers had it wrong about what we could and could not do. Using my superhuman strength I quickly stripped and stepped into the hot stream of water, washing as quickly as possible. I usually spent time mulling_things_ over, and by things I meant sex. Or sometimes having a randy session or two. I smirked as I recalled the many adventures I had in this very shower. There certainly wasn't a deficit in fuckable women in the twenty first century. They even smelled way nicer than the average eighteenth century broad.

_Way__to__be__a__dick,_I chastised myself, the frown returning to my features as I dried off and chose simple jeans and a black shirt Elena seemed to favor. Thankful for my superhuman speed, I arrived quietly at the Gilbert front door and after taking an unnecessary breath, I knocked, wondering what the hell I was doing using the front door when the window was my preferred method of entrance.

Shaken out of my convoluted thoughts by the sudden movement of the door swinging open I found her standing in front of me, looking more tired than I had seen her in ages. "What do you want?" she demanded, feebly attempting to look like a hardass and failing miserably. Cocking an eyebrow I gave her my most charming smile and she begrudgingly allowed me in, her sour expression never leaving her face. Oh this was going to be fun.

**A/N: Thank you all for the warm response of the first chapter! I decided to continue because being inside Damon's head is just so much damn fun and this two month hiatus has provided a lot of creative time to play this out how I think we all want to see it. Let me know what you think. We are in for a wild ride...**


	3. Culmination

Culmination

A/N: I am a terrible person... it has been more than half a year since I sat down to write any fanfic whatsoever. I wish to apologize to those of you who enjoyed this fic. Because it has been so long, I decided to add one more installment and wrap this up. So much has changed in the show that it would be silly to ignore that...but please remember while you read this that it's from the first-person perspective of Damon, directly after the last winter episode entitled Homecoming. Enjoy!

Twenty seven minutes had passed in awkward, fuming, amused silence. We shared in the awkward, Elena had a monopoly on the fuming, and I was simply amused. Amused and aroused. Oh the possibilities.

Wiping the smirk off my face as the naughty thoughts commenced, I drained my glass of bourbon and slammed it onto the table, catching the undivided attention of Elena. Finally.

"Why are you still here?" Elena asked, sitting her empty mug of hot chocolate down on the coffee table and crossing her arms, clearly uncomfortable.

"Because," I began, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at her stubborn behavior, "we need to talk."

"We have nothing to talk about," she repeated, for the hundredth time, her tone unconvincing.

"Like hell we don't," I muttered, moving from the chair to the couch, leaning close to Elena, demanding her gaze to meet mine.

Startled, Elena frowned, opening her mouth to counter my words. Shaking her head slightly as nothing immediately came to her, she settled for sighing loudly. I brought the dramatics out in her.

Quelling a growl, I slipped my hand into hers, feeling her body tense and her breath hitch at the contact. "This is why we have to talk." I knew she could feel the way our fingers sparked against each other, how her heartbeat quickened at my proximity.

A long minute passed as she gazed at our hands, mine over hers, and then she met my gaze, simultaneously intertwining her fingers with mine. "Damon," she pleaded, unable to face this, yet knowing we had to. The desire and desperation in her voice only pushed me closer. I had waited too long to turn back. Her pleas meant nothing now.

Seconds stretched between us and I squeezed her hand, feeling her shudder at the friction our touch created. Bringing my other hand to her face, I pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and leaned forward, never breaking eye contact. The familiar rush of desire, fear, anger, and love crashed over me at this proximity, this moment. I had played the part of a coward before and I refused to do so ever again. Resolute in that promise, I moved closer to the object of my unspoken desire, hovering at her lips, feeling the exhalation of air she washed over me. "We have to try," I whispered, closing the gap between us once again, pouring my sleepless nights and restless soul into her warmth and receiving her hesitation, her confusion, and the sweet tinge of affection mixed with chocolate.

Knowing I would never be the first to pull away, I worked my hands into her soft hair and moved my lips with hers, feeling her body begin to tremble against mine, the intoxication level rising as her scent and taste enveloped and coursed through me. Our appetite for one another devouring this moment, drawing our bodies closer until I am laying on top of her, the gentle curves of her body seeping into every narrow, hard place that I possess.

Letting out a groan, I press myself onto her pliable form with more aggression, finding it more difficult as each moment passes to restrain what I so badly crave. I know I am pushing her to the limits of what she will allow, but I cannot stop the impulse, and the animal within claws at my chest, desperate to be free.

I become lost in the bright warmth that is Elena, and so find myself disoriented when I realize her lips are not connected to my own and her soft curves have become rigid. Pushing off her body slightly, I gaze into her dilated pupils, smirking as I see the hunger captured on the surface. "We have to try," I repeat, holding my unnecessary breath as she works through the last few moments, her hair askew and chest heaving from our exertions.

"Yes," she murmurs, eyes widening at the acquiescence she feels. The burning between us.

Shock floods my veins, tainting my stagnant blood in a bitter flavor. The moment I thought could never arrive, the object of countless dreams and drunken binges, is mine. Mine.

Broken out of my reverie at the feeling of her fingers trailing a path across my lips, I bring her face into focus and smile gently, my hope kindled further at the trust etched on her wary features. "We have to try," she repeats slowly, snaking her arms around my neck and pulling my lips to hers once again.

There. At last. Where I, Damon Salvatore, belongs. In the possession of a woman. Elena Gilbert.

I breathe her into me and become lost.

A/N: Well...that's it! I hope you enjoyed the ending. I am going to start another fic soon, taking place after the events of the finale. Review please, I will mail you a cookie!


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